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Kaz's phone never rang.
Very few people had his number, and those that did knew to text him unless it was absolutely necessary. If a conversation needed to be had personally, he would either phone them, or organize to meet up in person. Even Inej knew not to call him unless she checked to make sure it was a good time first.
There was only one person who this rule didn't apply to, which is why Kaz didn't even bother checking the caller ID before picking up the phone.
"What business, merchling?"
"I've got a favour to ask."
"I'm not in the habit of doing favours," he said, flipping to the next page in his textbook. "What's in it for me?"
"I'll buy you a coffee after?" he could hear Wylan pacing in the background. "Please, Kaz? It's- it's really important."
Kaz could've continued to toy with him, but if he was being honest with himself, he had a soft spot for Wylan. They weren't that far apart in age (Wylan was only a few months younger than him), but there was something about Wylan, wide eyed and nervous, that made Kaz feel... something. Protective, maybe? But it wasn't the same feeling he got around his other Crows, or even Inej. It was different.
"What do you need?"
Wylan exhaled. "I need you to drive me to a doctor's appointment."
"What happened?"
"Nothing happened! Saints, can't I just ask you for a favour?"
There was a beat and Kaz considered hanging up. If it was anyone else, he probably would've. He didn't like being yelled at. But this was Wylan, so he could spare him a second chance.
"I'm sorry," Wylan said, sounding close to tears. "I'm just- can I explain in person?"
"Of course," Kaz said. "What time do you need the ride?"
"Tomorrow, two o'clock."
"I'll pick you up from your dorms at 1:30. You can buy me a coffee and explain on the way."
He hung up and sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. Why Wylan couldn't get Jesper, or Nina, or hell, even Matthias, to drive was beyond him. He was the last person you'd want at the doctors with you, too jittery and snappish to be any real comfort, and prone to picking fights with doctors he thought were gaslighting his friends. But it was Wylan, and he wanted Kaz, so Kaz would go.
Saints help him.
As promised, Kaz pulled up at exactly 1:30. Wylan was waiting for him outside, bag over his shoulder, and headphones over his ears. He jogged to the car and slid inside.
"Thank you."
"Don't thank me yet," Kaz said gruffly. "You haven't fulfilled your end of the bargain yet."
"Right," Wylan said. "Um... so I'm getting diagnosed today."
Kaz nodded. "As is usually the goal at doctor's appointments. What's the issue?"
"No issue. If everything goes to plan, I'll have an autism diagnosis by four."
"I thought we already knew you had autism."
"Oh, we do. But the school won't give me accommodations unless a doctors signs a note for it," Wylan said, fiddling with a green and black tangle in his lap. "Besides, it's not like my father can stop me anymore."
"No," Kaz said. "He can't."
He drummed his gloved fingers on the steering wheel as they waited at a red light. He'd been diagnosed in foster care, ten whole years ago, but he remembered the test. It would be different, for an adult instead of a child, but probably not different enough.
"Okay, merchling, listen up."
Wylan's eyes shot up and Kaz didn't turn his way.
"Drop the mask," he said. "I know usually the mask helps, but if you mask too much, they won't diagnose you. Don't look them in the eye, don't hide your stimming, and don't be afraid to ask for clarification. Bring up chemistry, or your flute, or whatever TV show you're on now, and don't stop talking about them. If they ask, tell them you're dyslexic. You need to look autistic, or they're just going to say you're awkward and you'll have gone to all that trouble for nothing."
Kaz took a breath and resisted the urge to keep going. Wylan didn't mask nearly as much as Kaz did, and he was a poster child for what autism looked like. Even if the doctors relied on stereotypes alone, he'd probably still walk out of there with a diagnosis.
"Don't mention Jesper."
"Why not?"
"Because if they find out you have a healthy relationship, they might assume that you're not actually autistic."
"But that's bullshit!"
"I know," Kaz ground out. "But we're playing the system. We both know you're autistic, we just need to prove it."
The car went silent and Kaz risked a look over. Wylan was rocking in his seat, biting at his fingernails.
"Don't worry," he said. "If they don't diagnose you, I'll just get Inej to sneak into the office and modify their files."
Wylan huffed out a laugh. "Turn here, there's a Starbucks in this strip mall."
Kaz obeyed. "Drive-thru or inside."
"Drive-thru," Wylan dug through his bag, but Kaz stopped him.
"I'll pay, merchling."
"That wasn't the deal."
"I'm altering the deal," Kaz said. "I'll pay for coffee, you tell me why you asked me to drive you."
"I needed a ride."
Kaz didn't bother responding to that. He ordered an Americano for himself, and a latte for Wylan, and let him stew. While they were waiting in line, Wylan broke.
"You've gone through this process already, okay?" he snapped. "And I love Jesper, but he'd just try to make me feel better, and Matthias would be awkward and unhelpful, and Nina would fight the doctors if they don't listen to me, and... I don't know, I wanted you to come!"
Kaz said nothing as he paid, and accepted the drinks. He took a long sip of his bitter concoction and sighed.
"So you wanted to be briefed on what to expect?"
"Yes," Wylan said, still riled up. "What happens first?"
"The psychologist will ask you questions. It will feel like an interview, but it's a lot longer. Probably an hour. And then they'll do some tests, like pattern recognition, and they'll ask you about your childhood. Then they send you home and two weeks later, you get an email that either says you that you are autistic, or that you're not, and we break into the accommodations office."
Wylan nodded. "Okay. Okay. You'll stay, right?"
"I can't be in the room with you," Kaz told him. "Patient privacy, or some bullshit. But I'll be in the waiting room. If you need me, just yell."
"Okay," Wylan's jitteriness had subsided, mostly. "Thank you."
Kaz didn't respond.
Two weeks later, his phone buzzed. It was a text from Wylan.
MERCHLING: thank you!
Attached was a screenshot of an email.
WYLAN HENDRIKS-VAN ECK
AGE: 18
General Impression: Wylan seems to fall within the moderate range of adults with autism spectrum disorder.
There was more information at the bottom, but Kaz didn't bother reading it. He smirked, sending a text back.
KAZ BREKKER: Good job, merchling.